Green Butterflies
by Sparkle
Summary: A fanfic for Flourish's Writing Challenge. This one is so weird, it scares even me; I wrote it in about twenty minutes at two in the morning, and even if it doesn't make sense...well...please review it anyway...


Green Butterflies

_This was written for Flourish's fanfic challenge. Since, ah, I didn't think Harry would actually participate in a reenactment of the night his parents were killed, I made some students as out-of-character as possible...let's see how that works. Oh, and this should take place during Harry's second year at Hogwarts. (And Harry's got a bad memory. He won't recall Sirius Black a year later, or Tom Riddle later that term. I had to make it work, all right?!) None of the characters belong to me, which is actually not bad, since I've positively butchered them... Flourish's Writing Challenge is entirely her creation, and I am but a humble partaker in the said event. This shouldn't make sense. Really. It's about 1.30 AM at the moment, and, well... If you don't get a bit, just let it pass and don't worry about it... For the record, here are Flourish's requirements for the Challenge: There must be a reenactment of the night Lily and James were killed, Harry has to participate, Voldemort has to make an appearance, someone must be named 'Nixon,' someone has to go to the hospital, and someone has to knit a pair of baby booties. See what I had to work with?!_

_~_

**_The Fall  
_**_Relive The Night That You-Know-Who Was Defeated...  
Brought To You By  
The Defense Against The Dark Arts League  
Hogsmeade Auditorium, Saturday, 7.30_

~

'I can't get it!' Neville wailed, smacking his wand on the desk.

'Shhh!' Hermione hissed. She was finishing a Potions essay and listening to her teacher at the same time. 'I'm trying to hear this.'

'...and as you know, the Defense Against the Dark Arts League will be sponsoring a reenactment of the night You-Know-Who was defeated,' Professor Flitwick squeaked. 'I will give ten house points and extra credit to each student who participates; rehearsal is this Friday...'

'Mmm,' said Harry, who was balancing a ball of yarn on his nose. Ron was drumming his desk with a pair of knitting needles.

'That will be all. Class dismissed!'

Professor Flitwick's students tumbled out of the Charms corridor, talking excitedly, and started down to lunch.

'If everyone from Gryffindor takes place in this reenactment, do you know how many points we could earn?' Hermione asked.

'We'll also look like idiots,' said Ron, who was now sticking the needles up his nose.

'Oh, does it really matter? And why are you two traipsing about with knitting materials, anyhow?'

Harry blushed and pushed his ball of purple-blue yarn into a pocket. 'Ron's mum is teaching us. Knitting is quite useful, you know.'

Ron also tucked his needles into his robes. 'There's a Knit-A-Thon next week, with prizes and everything. Here, look...' He dramatically pulled a slightly wrinkled bonnet out of his bag. 'This is what I'm entering.'

'It's, ah, lovely,' said Hermione, scratching her head. 'Um, what's for lunch?'

~

'I hear we have a guest student coming,' Lavender was saying over their midday meal.

'Really? What's his name?'

'Nixon.'

Fred and George sniggered. 'You've got to be kidding.'

'No, really, it's Bob Nixon,' Parvati protested. 'Professor Trelawney says so. He's staying for the DADAL reenactment.'

'Um hum. Sure.'

'I wonder if he likes to knit.'

Neville was now whacking his wand on the table.

'What are you _doing_?' Dean asked, looking exasperated. 'You've been at it all day.'

'I can't get this spell right!' Neville cried. 'I've been having this dream, and in it...I have to perform this spell...or I'll be eternally cursed...'

There was a long silence.

'Er, right,' said Hermione, who was looking distinctly worried - and not because of the curse, either. 'What's the spell, Neville?'

'Api...Apiumchrys...I've forgotten!'

Harry rolled his eyes, and went back to purling the baby booties he would be entering in the Knit-A-Thon.

'So, what about this Nixon fellow?' George asked, suppressing a grin.

'Professor Trelawney says he comes from Albania,' said Parvati, smugly.

'Professor Trelawney says that he's a very exceptional student,' Lavender added.

'Professor Trelawney says...'

'All right, all right, I get the point,' said Ron. 'You missed a stitch, Harry.'

Neville continued to bash at the table top, performing a staccato symphony in willow and unicorn hair. Someone from the Slytherin table threw a dinner roll at him.

'Are you going to try out for the reenactment, Dean?' Harry asked.

'Why not?' Dean shrugged, carefully picking crumbs off his robe - Blaise Zabini had misfired. 'It's extra credit. And you know those Defense League crones, they drink watered-down tea and spend their days talking about exploiting brownies and getting rid of bugganes...'

_I guess there's not much harm in it,_ Harry thought, turning to Ron and Hermione. 'Let's meet at the Hogsmeade Auditorium tomorrow.'

~

CRASH.

'Neville, watch out! Do you have to hit _everything_ with that wand of yours?' Hermione looked vehement, and her red wig was falling off.

'Well...well...how would you like it if you were eternally cursed?'

Harry rolled his eyes and adjusted his costume. He was playing Sirius Black, some villain, and the evil glare he had been practicing was starting to hurt his eyebrows.

'All right,' said Percy, who had volunteered to direct, 'everyone in their places! We only have two days to prepare for the premiere!'

Harry hurried to hide behind the Godric's Hollow set. He had mixed feelings about this reenactment; on the one hand, it was sort of weird, seeing Hermione dressed as his mother. On the other, he hadn't done too well on that last Charms quiz, and needed the extra credit...

'Oh, Lily!'

That was Draco, who was playing James. He was looking thrilled with pretending to be Hermione's husband. (If there was anything stranger than imagining Hermione as his mother, Harry was certain, it was imagining Draco as his father.)

'_What?'_ Hermione looked disgusted, and ready to hurl the plaster replica of Baby Harry at her swooning spouse.

'I have a bad feeling about tonight; what if we're attacked by You-Know-Who?'

'Cut, cut!' called Percy. 'How would they know that? I mean, really...' He waved his clapper around, snapping it in Draco's face. 'Think, people!'

'All right. I have no suspicions whatsoever about this evening, dear...'

Percy started snapping his clapper again. Draco looked daggers at him, but Harry supposed Percy liked his feeling of control more than he enjoyed chastising Draco.

Harry made a face. He glanced over at Neville, who would be playing Peter Pettigrew; Neville was murmuring something to himself, and biting his fingernails; he kept glancing at his wand.

'Later that night,' boomed Dean, who was the narrator, 'there was an unsuspected visitor at the Potter household...'

Silence.

'I said, there was an unsuspected visitor...'

Everyone looked around.

'Where's Bob?' Parvati wondered aloud. There were snickers throughout the audience.

'Um,' said Percy, 'the boy who was supposed to play You-Know-Who...he hasn't shown up.' He scanned the crowd. 'Er, Ginny? Would you fill in?'

Ginny mounted the stage immediately, and threw open the fake door that led to the Potters' house. 'You...you're all going to die!' she shrieked.

'Nice ad-libbing, Gin,' called Fred.

'Almost had it!' squealed Neville from backstage, sending up a shower of green sparks.

As Lily and James collapsed, Hermione kicked the Harry doll in the air; it exploded in a burst of flames.

Percy did the same.

'FRED! GEORGE! YOU SAID YOU WOULD RUN THE SPECIAL EFFECTS, NOT _BLOW UP_ THE BLASTED THING!'

'Sorry, dear brother!' George called.

'Our mistake!'

'Apologies!'

Ginny made her exit, a bit reluctantly, and Percy snapped the clapper. 'Continue!'

'The next day,' said Dean, who looked like he was trying to swallow a guffaw, 'Sirius Black, one of James' friends, met Peter Pettigrew on the street.'

Harry and Peter clambered onto the stage, which was crowded with spectators - two dozen Hogwarts students had rushed for the non-speaking parts - and ran toward each other.

'Lily and James, how could you?' Neville wailed.

'Grrr,' snarled Harry.

Neville waved his arms about before falling onto the stage, as Harry stabbed at him with his wand. 'Sirius Black' leapt about the stage, cackling madly.

'Watch it, that's my head!' came a muffled Draco, smacking at Harry's legs.

Terry Boot and Susan Bone rushed onto the stage and dragged Harry away, toward a makeshift hospital.

'Sirius Black was given a life sentence in Azkaban,' said Dean, who was shaking with laughter. 'You-Know-Who was forever vanquished, never to be seen again; and so ends our story.'

~

'That was horrible,' Hermione groaned the next day, as she sank into an armchair in Gryffindor Tower. 'I only hope we can perfect it by tomorrow.'

'I thought it was quite spirited,' said Ron.

'It's extra credit,' Harry agreed.

Hermione threw her arms up in the air. 'Fine. But I, for one, look like a total fool...you were right, Ron...'

~

Harry poked his head around the curtains. The premiere of 'The Fall' was about to begin, and Hogsmeade Auditorium was packed. Bob Nixon hadn't yet arrived, and many were beginning to question his existence.

'Who knows what Trelawney puts in her tea,' said Ron to Parvati. He tapped the side of his head with one finger, and put on a blank stare. 'You're nuts just to listen to her.'

'This reenactment starts in _five minutes_!' Percy yelled. 'Are we going through with this or not? Come on!'

'Fine, fine,' said George. 'Keep your robes on...for all of our sakes.'

'Curtain call!' said Percy, ignoring his younger brother.

'And you won't need the clapper for our production, Perce,' said George, prying the director's assistant from Percy Weasley's clenched fingers.

'But...but...' Percy looked lost.

'Excuse me?'

Everyone turned to look at the source of this new voice. A skinny boy dressed in dark robes was leaning against a doorframe.

'I'm Bob.'

Parvati and Lavender squealed. 'We told you! WE TOLD YOU!'

Bob looked a bit confused. 'I'm supposed to play the part of Voldemort, correct?'

Percy twitched at the name, but said nothing. 'That's right...I'm sorry you didn't have time to practice, but go ahead, stand over there...'

Bob sneered at Percy and waltzed across the stage. Suddenly, his shape flickered, and grew...and Voldemort stood center-stage.

'Mwa ha ha!' he cackled, in the menacing way that Harry wished he could perfect for his role in the play. 'Managed to wangle my way in, didn't I? Didn't I?'

Silence.

'Now, I've got you all where I want you...'

The production could have ended on a very sour note, but Harry, without thinking, grabbed for a spare pair of knitting needles. With a fierce battle cry, he dove across the stage and stabbed at Voldemort with the flashing silver sticks. The Dark Lord choked with laughter.

'Silly boy,' he said, reaching for Harry's throat, 'you think you can defeat me with your bitty needles? I've waited a long time to kill you, Harry, and now is the perfect moment...'

Harry tried to say something brave and impressive, but Voldemort's grip was unrelenting. Suddenly, Neville tumbled onstage.

'Look, everyone! I've remembered! APIUMCHRYALLIS!'

Gigantic green butterflies began blossoming out of Neville's wand. Voldemort squeaked and ran offstage, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Everyone was speechless for a few moments; the quiet was broken by the sound of Neville, who collapsed on the stage.

'Um...um...' Ron started.

'Who...who'd've known that You-Know-Who's afraid of green butterflies?' Hermione stammered.

'I'm not cursed!' Neville cried.

'This is...was...wow,' Harry murmured. His mind was racing a mile a minute; nothing seemed to make sense.

'Maybe we'd better just...not mention it,' said Percy, looking at the swinging doorway that had recently facilitated a means of escape for the fleeing Dark Lord.

'Right,' said Fred.

~


End file.
